Wandering Eyes
by Kristanci
Summary: Jacques finds a friend in a very odd, but reassuring place.


AN: This is just a short one shot that was lingering in my head lately. Enjoy guys.

Jacques deflected the oncoming blow and spun, effectively putting her directly behind her attacker. She placed her left hand on the young man's shoulder and delivered a swift blow to the back of his leg. He gave out a surprised cry and dropped his rapier. "Ow, ow, ow! Not so hard, Leponte!" yelped Louis.

Jacques disengaged and stepped away, allowing the king to pick up his weapon. "And that, Your Majesty, is called a Coup de Jarnac. As you can see, given the right circumstance, it can be quite a crippling stike."

Louis pouted and rubbed the back of his knee. He eyed the other musketeers in the training room. "D'Artagnan always lets me win," he said with a frown. The raven haired musketeer gave a quick bow, complete with a cocky grin.

"That is because," Jacques started, glaring at her irritating comrade, "he is not allowing your full potential to blossom." She heard a scoff from d'Artagnan, but she made no gesture to acknowledge it. Jacques slipped the tip of her blade underneaths Louis'. With a quick snap upward, she brought Louis' blade back to position. "Again."

For the next half hour, Louis lunged and parried. Captain Duval and the others were patiently waiting, lined up against the side of the training room. One month ago, the queen and surprisingly Mazarin, agreed that it would be beneficial for Louis to learn how to arm and protect himself. Queen Ann was sitting at the far end of the room, enjoying a book, occassionally saying "good job, dear" or a "fine footwork" while keeping her nose between pages. Mazarin, of course, was nowhere to be found.

Louis had been improving, but it was not enough. He learned from his mistakes, but he also made new ones. Jacques had to snap out of her daydreams during the session as the whole ordeal reminded her of Gerard. However, Louis was much younger than her brother, and he was much more fragile. Somewhere along the lesson, she had become more of a mother hen than a protective sister. It made her wonder about any future she may have had as a mother. The thought was quickly pushed aside when she heard the other musketeers clapping as Louis stepped aside and disarmed her.

"Ah, Your Highness!" Ramon said. "Your la destreza is coming along very nicely. Each day I see improvement. And I am sure, the others agree." He looked back to d'Artagnan, Siroc and Captain Duval.

The captain limped foward and clasped a proud hand onto Louis' shoulder. "We are very impressed with your progress, my king," he said. His stern eyes met Jacques' and it made her feel uneasy. "And I apologize that private Leponte has been unforgiving lately."

Jacques cleared her throat, instinctively deepening her voice. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I only mean to teach, not harm."

Louis handed his rapier to Captain Duval with a disgusted look on his face. It seemed that the young king completely despised weapons in general. "There is nothing that needs to be forgiven, Leponte. Though I will say that you have a bit more aggression than your peers."

A smile touched her lips. "For good reason," she said, sheathing her rapier. She began to make her way toward her comrade when Louis stopped her.

"And what reason is that?" he asked her with curious eyes.

Jacques looked from Louis to the captain, then to her peers. She had to be careful in her answer. She was not talking to an a normal teenage boy. She straightened her posture and looked at Louis, observing him closely. "Do I have permission to speak freely, sire?"

Louis smiled and laughed. "But of course, you are amongst friends." His cheer died down quickly when he saw the look in her eyes.

"Your Highness," Jacques said in all sincerity, "you are a king. You are the pillar of France, and we swore to protect you. But there may be a time when you must be able to protect yourself. I firmly believe that strength in training allows strength to grow in other areas of life."

"You seem to speak from experience, Leponte," Louis said scratching his chin, appearing to take her words into consideration.

Jacques glanced over to d'Artagnan. "I am," she said. D'Artagnan's eyes softened. It was moments likes these where she was grateful for him. He was the only one who knew what she felt, and that alone reassured her and drove her mad. She broke eye contact with him and returned to Louis. "So you see, sire, I push you because I want you to be the strongest king France has ever known."

That admission sent Louis into a cheerful mood. He immediately clapped his hands and asked for a grand meal to be prepared for the "world's strongest ruler." Jacques smiled, seeing how easily a compliment could affect a young mind.

"Private Leponte," Queen Ann called from afar. "A word?"

"Um... of course, my queen," Jacques stumbled. She quickly straightened her uniform and brushed the hair out of her face. The queen had never shown any interest in speaking to her before. Jacques both admired and respected the regal woman, but she was also intimidated of her as well. Once Jacques was by the queen's side, Ann set her book aside and lifted her arm as though she was silently asking to be escorted.

"My queen," Jacques said with a formal smile, holding out her arm for Ann to grasp.

Ann proceeded to lure her away from the others, and Jacques gave d'Artagnan one nervous look, but all he returned was an unknowing shrug. Jacques brought her attention forward, uncertain where she was being lead. How does one act in presence of the queen? One thing was for certain, do not speak unless you are spoken to.

The odd pair made their way outside onto the courtyard grounds. High walls kept any intruders away and the blooming fig and date trees brought shade and a cool place to rest. Ann inhaled sharply, "it is always beautiful this time of year, do you not agree, musketeer?" she asked sweetly.

"I could not agree more, my queen," Jacques said in all sincerity. Her heart ached for her home, for the past. The Rogets were a simple, isolated family, but they were as happy as they could possibly be. If she and Gerard were not fencing, they were climbing strong oaks or picking fruit. Life was... perfect.

"Tell me," Ann said, bringing their walk to a halt. "Tell me how is it that you are capable of holding up such a facade?"

Jacques blinked. "Facade, my lady?"

Ann brought her face close, looking directly into Jacques' eyes. Jacques gulped. The queen knew. "Do you know what it was that gave you away, my dear?"

For a split moment, Jacques thought her life had just ended. She could see herself being arrested, and thrown into the dungeons. "I..."

The queen pulled away and smiled. "Oh, get that look off of your face. Your secret is safe with me, and I will tell you why, musketeer." She looked back to the entrance that lead straight to the training rooms. "I love my son," she said simply. "It is quite obvious that you care for him, and that you want him to survive this hateful, corrupt world."

Jacques kept silent, afraid that she might say the wrong words and immediately lose the queen's favor.

"I refuse to lose him, musketeer," Ann continued. "I don't care what you are or what you pretend to be. I want my son surrounded by those he can trust with his life. I want him away from..." Ann's eyes lingered toward a window high above them, and Jacques had the sneaking suspicion that those quarters belonged to the red devil. Ann spun sharply and faced Jacques again. "You would know first hand how we are viewed. Weak, just for show... but you and I have proven them wrong, have we not?"

Jacques slowly nodded. "My life would expire before I let harm come to the king," she said carefully.

Ann lifted her hand to Jacques' cheek. "I see the way you look at my son. I see that you want him grow to a strong man, and that is exactly what he needs. You would make an excellent mother, musketeer."

"Thank you..." Jacques said in a whisper. She had long ago given up on the idea of having a family when Jacqueline Roget became a fugitive. The only fates she allowed herself was to either retire as a musketeer, flee as a fugitive, or die fighting for the king.

"I can tell that you have sacrificed much," Ann said. "Will it be too much to ask of you if I request that you continue to look after my son?"

Jacques lightly grapsed the queen's hand and gave it a light squeeze. "It will be an honor," she said. This was the life she chose. Though she was cast into the role in the blink of an eye, this was the path she accepted.

For the first time, she saw a genuine smile on the queen's face. "My thanks, Leponte." She stepped away and held up her arm, once more asking to be escorted.

Jacques felt relieved. She gladly offered her arm and the pair made their way back to the training rooms. "Oh, before I forget, musketeer," the queen started.

"Yes, my lady?"

"What gave you away was your wandering eyes, but it was not my son they were set upon," Ann said with a smirk. She pulled Jacques along, ignoring the baffled expression upon the musketeer's face.


End file.
